Could You Try to Mime It Out?
by Keeper-of-the-Cheese
Summary: Just because you're usually the one causing the mayhem and mishaps does not mean that you are in any way immune to them.' R&R please!


A/N: Heeellloooooo!! Thank you for noticing this notice! Your notice of this notice has been noted!! This is my first foray into the realm of Bat-fiction. Hopefully I won't botch it up too terribly! Thank you for reading, and enjoy the fic!

FYI: I don't own Batman. If I did, Gotham would be a much safer place. Why, you ask? Because Joker, Scarecrow, and Two-Face would quickly find themselves kidnapped by the one, the only, Keeper-of-the-Cheese!!

Now, ONWARD!!

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Could you Mime it Out?

The Joker had always found a kind of pleasure in robbing banks. He held a special affection for the crime that he had 'cut his teeth' on. In his life of anarchy and chaos, the simple act of robbery was his catharsis. The panicked cries of the banks patrons were relaxing melodies to his addled brain. So, as he walked down the alley next to one of the mid-sized banks in Gotham, he felt a sort of relief and almost weightless-ness in his already bouncing step.

But things rarely turned out as you want them to, even if you don't look like a guy with a plan.

Tommy Goolas had no idea that he would cause so much hassle in the day of a painted super-villain. All he wanted to do was get back to his cotton candy stand in the middle of Wayne Park.

Fate, however, had other plans.

You see, Tommy was a slight man, an easy target, if you will. he was in no way intimidating or forceful looking. So, it should have been no surprise to him when he found himself pressed against the wall of a subway car with a gun in his face and three tough-looking teenagers demanding all the money on his person. Tommy would have willingly complied too. But, lets face it, he ran a cotton candy stand.

After telling the young thugs as much he offered them the bag of supplies he had just purchased with the last of his hard earned money.

the teens viciously ransacked the bag. Groceries, small toys for his kids, and a magazine flew through the air. One of the thugs made a cry of delight as he came upon a carton of the powdery mix Tommy used to make cotton candy. Seeing the prize his comrade had found, the thug not burdened by a lethal weapon began to argue with his partner over who would get the sugary version of coke.

The eldest thug, obviously the leader, held the gun to Tommys' chest as he reached over and yanked the mix from the two younger teens hands. Rebuking his fellows in language far from pure, he opened the train door to his left, and tossed the box of sugary powder up onto the roof of the train.

The sugar was tossed about by the wind, but somehow managed to stay on top of the speeding subway train. As it twisted with the gale-like forces battering it, the box began to shred, letting the sugar be carried by the winds,

Up, up, up, up,

Towards the vent that lead onto one of the many alleys in Gotham.

The Joker stalked giddily after two of his hench-clowns. It was almost time for him to make his grand enterance. He could hear his little henchies threatening the whimpering citizens inside the bank with bodily harm.

Chances were very good that not everyone would make it out of that bank alive today. He fingered the switch-blade in his pocket and smiled gleefully, stepping onto a vent above the subway tunnel. Suddenly,

WHOOSH

It was as if Marylin Monroe had been reborn with green hair and pants.

The Joker grimaced as he felt the hot air coming off the train blow his jacket up from his body and turn his artfully chaotic hair into a bowl of stems without flowers.

He continued across the vent, fully expecting the worst to be behind him...When in actuality, the worst was right in front of him.

Before he could even close his eyes he was assaulted by the pink cotton candy mix thrown out of the train by an angry teenaged mugger.

To say that the Clown Prince of Crime was surprised by being accosted by a confection wasquite an understatement.

He was, quite literally, blown away.

He found himself lying on his back, eyes stinging, and throat unnaturally dry. Trying to gather his wits, he attempted to laugh it off, but, as he had gotten the wind knocked out of him, this was easier said, or, not said then done. The irony was not lost on him that it had actually been the doing the knocking as well.

He began to panic when, trying to take a breath, he inhaled a powdery, sweet substance.

Gagging, and choking, he let the majority of the sugar run out of his mouth, the rest he blew out in a pseudo-geyser as soon as his airway was basically clear.

Sitting up, he gingerly rubbed the grit out of his eyes and looked around.

His hench-clowns were at the end of the alley, looking at his semi-prone figure with wide eyes. He was nearly set on killing both of them for witnessing his humiliation, when the siren song of screaming Gothamites. The job.

Duty calls!

Quickly righting himself and shaking like a dog to rid his clothes and head of any excess sugar, he hacked once to clear his throat, and stalked to the bank door.

Entering the building with his usual flair, he grabbed the gun off of his nearest hench-clown and shot it repeatedly into the ceiling. This quickly brought every ones attention to him. Scanning the room he took note of the hostages that had been taken.

'Five John-Does, three Jane-Does, and two cops. Kings , Queens, Jacks...And one Joker'

He giggled quietly at his joke.

The entire room stared, wide-eyed, at him.Waiting for him to give them some indication as to what would happen next.

He favored them all with his 'winning' smile and opened his mouth,

Nothing happened.

The Jokers eyes widened with realization. The sugar he had inhaled earlier had completely dried out his vocal chords!

He glanced about, assessing the reaction from his audience.

His thugs stared at him in amazement, or fear, or both. The hostages were openly terrified of him, but a select few were gawking at him.

He was used to gawking. How could you not be when you chose to dress up as a clown?

However, these few hostages had a very different kind of disbelief on their faces. This was not the ' Oh, I've just realized that the Joker is robbing the bank I'm currently in, help me, help me, I'm going to die' variety of disbelief he was used to. This was the 'Oh my dear, sweet mother, I cannot believe that my roommate actually believed me when I told her that sucking the liquid out of a white glow-stick would instantly whiten her teeth' kind of disbelief.

They looked , dare he say it, amused.

Never one to enjoy being left out of a joke, he stalked over to the gawkers.

He was painfully aware of the difference between the stares of the terrified, and the stares of the amused few.

Coming up to one of the amused, a teenage boy who looked like he would have been more at home at Comic-Con the Joker knelt down to look the boy in the eye.

he pulled a sugar coated switch-blade out of his pocket and waved it menacingly in front of the boys' face.

The young man seemed to be fighting an inner battle to either curl up and cry, or burst out laughing. The Joker cleared his throat and smiled at the teen.

"So sonny, are ya gonna, uh, let me in on the, ah, joke?"

The Joker tried to force his parched vocal chords to behave and give him even a slightly menacing tone. All they chose to bequeath him with was the rasp of a sixty year old asthmatic after a 10k run.

Whatever had tickled the teens funny-bone before, coupled with the Jokers pitiful wheeze, caused the young man to burst into full-blown laughter.

The Joker stared at the young man rolling around on the floor, glanced at the other hostages, and then to his henchmen in hopes of an explanation.

On any other day, the Joker would have joined the boy in laughter before mercilessly cutting the young man into very tiny pieces. But today, given the circumstances, The Joker found himself unable to work up even the tinniest giggle.

He sighed silently and glanced at one of the many mirrors that lined the walls of the bank.

That was when he saw it.

The pink sugar had stuck to his grease-paint when he was hit by it.

Turning his face a Bright. Cotton Candy. Pink.

The Joker blinked in astonishment.

'NO. After everything that has already gone wrong. Not this!'

He closed his eyes and opened them in the vain hope that it was just a hallucination...

Nope.

Disbelief etched itself across the clowns face.

Things like this were not supposed to happen to super vilians!

Shaking with surpressed fury and horror, the Joker turned back to the room full of people. His whole body shook as his previously fearsome visage contorted in rage.

His furious gaze landed back of the teen, still rolling on the floor with unsuppressed laughter.

The Jokers eye twitched.

His thugs decided to grow a sense on self preservation, and slowly backed away.

The teen seemed to take note of the dead silence in the room and turned his rowdy laughter down to a more manageable level, as his eyes found the Jokers.

The boys' hazel eyes sobered instantly.

A cold fury laced through the Jokers wiry frame.

If there was one thing he hated, it was being embarrassed in front of hostages.

The whole thing just sent the wrong message.

One of the voices in his head a nice Spanish fellow who liked to call himself Pedro Pablo Ignacio Juan Fransisco Garcia E Gabeldon told him to keep it together, be cool. After all, the kid was the only one laughing, everyone else looked about ready to faint.

Trying to reign in his temper, the Joker tried to take a few calmingly deep breaths.

All he came up with were some rather squeaky wheezes.

This, of course, set our young, foolish friend into another round of rambunctious laughter.

Aaaaand...The Joker lost it.

Wheezing a snarl out through his teeth, he flew over to the teen and grabbed him by the collar of his tee-shirt.

With unmistakable fury in his eyes the Joker brought the boy up to his level and began to attempt to scare his pants off.

Now, he could have just killed the young man, and perhaps this would have been the more prudent step at this point, but the Joker wanted this boy to cower in fear, pee his pants, and beg for mercy before he got around to the killing part.

So, this left the Joker shaking a still giggling teen, rasping out every threat and scar-story he could think of.

After finishing a particularly graphic tale involving a pit-bull and a go-cart, he took a shaky breath and stared at the teen in his grasp.

The boy looked up at him, no longer laughing, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

" You know," he started.

" I caught none of that. Could you try to mime it out?"

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A/N: There you go! Short and sweet. I hope you enjoyed this little offering! I am considering making this into a series of one-shots staring the rest of the villains. Any thoughts? Yes? No? Hit the review button and let me know!


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